


I Wish I Was Your Cigarette

by dokl



Category: The Usual Suspects (1995)
Genre: M/M, Please don't hate me for this, Slow Build, idk what I'm doing man, some explicit language as you can expect, sorry if this is super ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dokl/pseuds/dokl
Summary: He didn’t mean for it to end up like this. At least, that’s what he found himself initially thinking.





	I Wish I Was Your Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> idk what I'm doing tbh, this is the first time I've uploaded fanfiction onto the internet in a _long ass time_. this is my favorite movie so I just kinda ran with it? 
> 
> not beta'd, and I'm always open to comments, suggestions, and tips about my writing!

He didn’t mean for it to end up like this. At least, that’s what he found himself initially thinking.

Michael McManus, the demented criminal with more felony records than could be counted on both hands, wasn’t the type of person be sentimental. _Hell_ , he may have enjoyed his fair share of hooking up with women from time to time when out of town and while working minor jobs for Redfoot in Los Angeles, but those always ended up as one-night stands, something meant to satisfy him temporarily.

It wasn’t out of character that McManus secretly craved something more. He knew that all of his fellow conmen did, whether they wanted to admit it or not. However, his life of corruption just did not simply allow for that kind of relationship, let alone any friendships. The criminal world was one where you kept your friends close but your enemies closer, since anyone could become the latter at any given time, especially if a certain amount of money was involved. Michael wasn’t a stranger to this life, and that’s why he primarily stuck with casual hook-ups and temporary affairs. He didn’t want to put his reputation on the line, one that he had gained throughout New York City’s criminal underworld, and firmly believed that no one was worth risking that.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

When he met Fred Fenster five years ago, he hadn’t been expecting much. He had heard that he was paired up with the fellow conman for a petty thief job, one that honestly wasn’t worth McManus’s time. He had only agreed to it so that he’d have extra cash lying around, but he also certainly wasn’t one to turn a shy eye away from fucking the system over. That’s why when he initially met Fenster, McManus was dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe that the blabbing idiot had even managed to be in on the job, let alone have any influence in New York’s black market. The job itself had been easy enough, and Michael found himself almost enthralled by Fenster’s work. Yeah, he was a tight ass, and honestly a real pain in the ass, but he found himself wanting to learn _more_. It was out of character for Michael to keep doing work with the same people, but he found himself asking Fenster to grab a drink with him afterwards. After an evening full of drunken shenanigans, and the promise of an ungodly hangover to come in the morning, McManus decided that Fenster may have not been as annoying as he originally thought.

After their first encounter, both men began to work jobs together frequently. It didn’t matter the line of work that was offered; if McManus was going, so was Fenster. Before he knew it, they had become a dynamic duo, taking on countless jobs together, and Fenster became his number one partner in crime. The overflow of cash from their success was one benefit, but Michael hadn’t been expecting his friendship with Fenster to also reap in several unexpected rewards. He remembered the first time that Fenster called him Michael, a name that he hadn’t heard since his father kicked him out of the house at age eighteen. In the criminal world, someone knowing your first name almost felt like a vulnerability, something that wasn’t really necessary to address. He had asked Fenster in return what _his_ first name was, almost a little too defensively, to which he learned that maybe parents really _can_ unintentionally condemn their children with a shitty name. He hadn’t really expected to ever go into anything more deep with Fenster after their embarrassing exchange, but Michael found himself to be wrong.

It happened when both men were working on a job for Redfoot out in sunny Los Angeles. Michael honestly hadn’t known what he was expecting; after an evening of successful debauchery, too much alcohol, and pseudo liquid courage, Michael found himself kissing Fenster. On the lips. In his hotel room. What the actual fuck. As he was about to pull himself away, prepared to make a lousy joke about both of them being too damn drunk for their own good, Fenster reciprocated this kiss. Michael felt his brain short-circuit as he realized _holy shit Fenster is making out with me right now. In Los Angeles. Alone. Fuck._ When Fenster finally pulled away, his dark eyes immediately locked with McManus’s pale blue ones, searching for either some kind of rejection or encouragement. It may have been the alcohol talking, but Michael thought that Fenster looked absolutely gorgeous. His lightly flushed skin, warm to the touch from the excessive drinking, his dark locks, and knowing smirk made Michael swallow thickly. He may have not wanted to admit it, but yeah, Michael may have found his partner in crime attractive every now and then. And he would be an absolute lying bastard if he denied fantasizing about it. More often than he’d like to admit. It didn’t go much farther than that, considering both men were drunk off of their asses, and the evening ended with both passed out on their respective beds.

Michael feared that the following morning would be awkward as hell, and he had already mentally prepared himself that he was going to lose his new crime buddy. His head was pounding from his hangover, and Michael felt angry at himself for fucking up so badly. When Fenster finally awoke though, he acted as if the previous events from last night never occurred. McManus just assumed that either Fenster didn’t remember anything that happened last night or that it was going to be an unspoken, taboo event between them that would never be brought up again. Michael couldn’t help but feel relieved, but deep down he did feel a slight pang of regret. He knew that he couldn’t have feelings for Fenster, let alone act on them, but that only made him want it even more. McManus may have only been with women in the past, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass about if his partners were male, female, or anything in-between. It would probably ruin his stellar criminal reputation, as awful as that sounded, so maybe it was for the best. That didn’t stop Michael from thinking about their kiss every once and awhile though.

Nothing beyond platonic encounters happened between the two for a few years after that. They worked on more jobs than McManus could remember, went clubbing together more often that he would _like_ to remember, and saw lots and lots of dough. They were truly living the good life, or at least as good as it could be for two criminals trying to survive in New York, and it was not going to be Michael to fuck it up over some dumb feelings. At first, he tried to repress them, and thought that maybe sleeping around would help. McManus wasn’t shy to the scene; and his devilishly handsome looks definitely helped. But even after all of his attempts to remove his feelings, Michael couldn’t help but glance at Fenster longer than he should have, or be closer to him than necessary when going over plans. He figured that eventually either he or Fenster would die anyway, something that was a guarantee in their line of work, so it didn’t really matter. At least, that’s what he _wanted_ to believe.  
It was a dreary evening in November when Fenster decided he was going to crash at McManus’ place for the evening. It wasn’t out of the ordinary; he had been over many times before and vice versa, usually after their drinking shenanigans had gone too far, and it was far too late in the evening to give a damn about getting home. But this time, neither of them had been drinking. They had just finished up a job close to McManus’s apartment, so he had naturally extended the offer to Fenster so that he could lay low for a few hours to avoid the cops, and so he could rinse the grime off of his hands. While lying on his dingy bed reading the local news and not caring if his white sheets became covered in blood from the job, the last thing he expected was for Fenster to nonchalantly walk out of his bathroom almost _naked_ , in nothing but his boxers with a bath towel draped over his shoulder. McManus joked about Fenster ruining his pure virgin eyes, to which Fenster scoffed and flipped him off, explaining that his clothes needed to be washed. Right. That made total sense. Of course they were stained with blood. Fenster didn’t have any other intentions. _God_ , McManus really did wonder if he was going crazy. Maybe his old man was right after all. He hadn’t even been drinking, but he already felt his head go fuzzy as Fenster came closer, rambling about their job. McManus didn’t _mean_ for it to happen, but he needed to stop staring at Fenster’s bare chest. He offered for his friend to borrow a t-shirt from his closet, complaining that he wasn’t going to crank the heat on just so Fenster could stroll around butt naked and do whatever he damned pleased. Paying for air conditioning and heating was expensive enough in New York, and last time he checked, Fenster certainly did _not_ live here. (But that didn’t mean McManus wished it were the opposite). 

After throwing on a ragged white t-shirt from Michael’s closet, Fenster turned around and posed, bragging that he could wear any of McManus’s clothes better than he could himself. The t-shirt was not only scattered with holes here and there, but it was thin. Michael turned away after half-heartedly laughing at his friend’s joke, trying to fight the blush quickly rising on his face. _Damn you._ Fenster, completely oblivious, did his usual obnoxious laugh, which rang in McManus’s ears, causing him to only cower down more. Here he was, a dangerous, wanted criminal, one who the government would love to imprison for the remainder of his life, blushing like a schoolgirl because his _friend_ was wearing _his_ t-shirt. Suddenly, Fenster’s laughing came to a halt. Michael turned around, frustrated enough already, only to find Fenster glaring at him with a knowing look. He sauntered over to Michael’s bed, and stood over him, smirking and asking him how he was so flustered, despite it being the middle of winter and there being no heating since McManus was too stubborn to pay for it. He had been caught. Red-handed. “If you felt that way about me, you coud’a just said so,” Fenster slurred, staring down at McManus. He finally dared to look up, no longer able to fight the embarrassment rising in his cheeks, glaring into Fenster’s eyes. He couldn’t read his expression. Was it anger? Confusion? _Disgust?_ Just as Michael was about to apologize for making his friend uncomfortable, something he would normally never consider, Fenster leaned down closer and mumbled “Now why ya been keepin this to yourself for so long? Don’t ya ‘member that night back in LA at the hotel with Redfoot?” McManus instantly burst out laughing. The whole thing was comical. He had been trying to repress that memory for so long, and for Fenster to bring it up so casually seemed like he was mocking him. Glaring right back at Fenster, he defensively growled, “I don’t want you using this against me, cocksucker. If you’re going to be like that, then you can fucking leave. I understand if you don’t want to do any more work together.” Fenster immediately shook his head, almost in confusion, “Now why ya gotta be like that for?” Michael honestly did not know what to do. He couldn’t tell if his partner was fucking with his head and mocking him, or if this was a legitimate confession. It was confusing. Just as McManus was about to start protesting again, Fenster sat down on the bed next to him, and gave him a serious look up and down. Now this was _different_. Despite all their time together, Michael had never seen the other man with _that_ look unless they were seriously fucked while doing a job together. Chuckling quietly to himself, Fenster muttered, almost too quickly for Michael to hear “I feel the same way about ya, and if ya don’t wanna work together no more I get it. But I think ya should know at least.” McManus felt like crying. Ok, maybe not it wasn't that dramatic, but he was sure pleased as hell. He grinned, finally looking Fenster in the face for the first time since he sat down and nodded, agreeing that maybe this _partnership_ thing really could work out.

After that, it was no secret that McManus and Fenster were together. Hockney, Verbal, and Keaton were well aware of their relationship, but they thankfully didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anything, they were downright supportive. McManus had been expecting the worst when the others found out, despite Fenster’s reassurance, but for once he was glad that he was wrong. It didn’t save him from the every now and then teasing from his fellow conmen though. Especially when they all took trips to LA together or when they found out Fenster had slept over at McManus’s the night before. It was an uncomfortable experience at first. Both men had never really been in a full-time, committed relationship. It wasn’t typically allowed when you were a part of this kind of world. Things weren’t always perfect, but it’s not like either of them expected it to be anyway. As long as they had each other, everything seemed like it was going to turn out fine, even if it was only for the duration of their short lifetimes. 

McManus hadn’t expected to receive what he had craved for so long, let alone through another person, or a partner for that fact, but truthfully, he was damn well glad he had met Fenster after all.


End file.
